MacRieve (Immortals After Dark) by Kresley Cole Page A

Munro following. Wherever she was, she remained stationary.
    Lesser beings took one look at Will’s face—a Lykae in his prime, hell-bent on something—and cowered from him.
    Before, he’d been ambivalent about his mate. Now he had to experience her scent for just a touch longer. He had to see her face. Would she be tall or petite? Would her locks be long or cropped? Her personality lighthearted or serious?
    And since she wasn’t a Lykae, would she even want him in return? Mayhap his cursed looks would finally come in handy. He scrubbed a hand down his face, surprised to find thick stubble and bruised skin. “I might’ve shaved today, huh?”
    “Might’ve.” Munro yanked his clean, nice shirt over his head, motioning for Will to trade his faded, ratty one. Without missing a step, they swapped shirts; nymphs squealed at the bare-chested brothers striding past them.
    Once they’d changed, Munro gestured to indicate all of Will. “It is what it is.”
    Nïx had made that same gesture, the night she’d betrayed him. As Will took unfaltering steps toward his mate, realization hit him. This was all according to plan. If he hadn’t been on the island, he never would have come to this auction tonight. Nïx had set this in motion.
    To what end, soothsayer?
    “We’ll find her,” Munro assured him as they pushed through crowds of immortals.
    “And then what?”
    “Then nature takes over.”
    The throng around them began booing at the stage. Catcalls and jeers followed. They must’ve led Daughter of Webb out.
    The sound of someone blowing into a hot mic pinged Will’s sensitive ears, dredging up memories of torture. What didn’t remind him of the island? Shake it off.
    “Welcome to the House of Witches auction night,” a female announcer said into the mic. “My name is Belee, and I’ll be hosting this eve. Up for grabs is Chloe Todd, the verified Daughter of Webb. Age of twenty-four. Excellent health. Tonight’s her first time ever to see immortals. So let’s give her a big welcome to the Lore.”
    The crowd booed louder.
    Though Will was curious to see the spawn of his enemy, he was enthralled by his new mate’s scent.
    To go to sleep awash in it? To wake to it? Resisting the call felt impossible.
    “The bidding will begin at one million U.S. dollars or equivalent.” As Munro had predicted. “Who would like to open?”
    —“One million in Draik gold pieces from the king of Draiksulia.”
    —“One point five from the Accord of the Valkyries and the Furiae—plus the Brisingamen Chain.”
    More bids came in, and still the brothers hadn’t reached her. A line of centaurs blocked their way; just as Will bared his teeth, about to plow through them, Munro yanked him around. “Keep your head.”
    Will’s Instinct was now screaming — YOURS! —
    In the background, the auction continued at a furious pace.
    —“The last of the Banemen Godslayers bid a dieumort, a god-killer.”
    —“The Pravus Rule bids two million as well as a barely used Bridefinder talisman.”
    —“Rodrigo Gamboa bids two tankers full of Colombian marching dust.”
    Will dimly wondered if that last one was a joke.
    The bidding reached eight digits, yet he and Munro still hadn’t found her. They followed her scent toward the front, now shoving creatures out of the way.
    Will drew deep of her once more and nearly stumbled. “Munro, did you catch that scent? She’s—”
    “Human,” Munro finished, the word like a death knell.
    “If I canna control my beast . . .” Bucket List Will. It’d be best for her no’ to know me. Let her go. “I would kill a mortal.”
    “We’ll figure it out. Will, I’ll help you through this. I vow it. But for now, we just need to find her.”
    They were closing in on the stage when a last flurry of bids came through. Soon everyone would leave—and then how would he find her? Will scrubbed his hand over his face, casting a confused glance at Munro. “Where the hell is she?” Then he